The punch threw me off balance, the pain intense enough to make me see stars. I scrabbled away from Damien, fighting to find my footing as my vision cleared. I clutched at my jaw, tasting blood. Ah, fuck.
“Point wolves,” Jackie called out.
At least half the watchers in the crowd threw their heads back and howled into the night. I licked the blood off my lip. Home turf advantage. What stung even more was knowing that any vampires in the circle wouldn’t have cheered me on, either. It just wasn’t our thing. Polite clapping, maybe. Maybe. This was demoralizing.
I picked myself up, brushing off my jeans, bending my knees as I brandished my sword. I placed the scabbard gently on the ground. Damien struck Garm’s Fang against the asphalt, a warning clang. Then he gave me a shit-eating grin. “Ready for more?”
There’s a reason people remember the name Sterling. Maybe it’s the ghostly sheen of my skin, my quicksilver speed, or how given the right mood, I can charm the crown right off a king’s head. The arrogance works against me sometimes, sure. But if you ask me, people call me Sterling because I’m monstrously excellent at the things I do.
Like moving really fast. Like sucker punches.
I darted at Damien, a streak of silver in the dark. I struck the pavement with my heels, a short spring as I launched my knuckles directly at his chin. No quicker way to knock the grin off of someone’s face than by actually punching it off with your bare fist. Damien grunted as we connected, the crack of his jaw splitting the air in the parking lot.
He stumbled, clutching at his chin. Nice. I’d put money on me striking hard enough to draw blood.
Of course, we were talking about a mountain in the shape of a man here. That square jaw wasn’t fun to punch. I shook my hand out, clenching my teeth to hide just how painful jabbing him in the face had been.
Damien dragged the back of his hand across his mouth, glowering. He spat something dark onto the asphalt.
“Point to the bloodsucker,” Jackie announced, this time with a thick layer of irritation in her voice. Wow, bias much?
The crowd jeered and booed. Excellent. Indignant anger was infectious. It was only going to make Damien hotter under the collar, more prone to making mistakes. Sometimes you have to fight smart, not hard.
“That wasn’t very nice, vampire,” Damien said, his teeth stained red with his own blood.
I retrieved my scabbard, puckering my lips and blowing him a kiss as I went back into a fighting stance. “Eye for an eye, sweetheart.”
Damien roared, swinging his enormous blade in a vicious circle. My eyes went huge. The guy moved much too fast for his bulk, but that was werewolf reflexes for you. I ducked, then feinted left, then right, searching for an opening. But I was too impatient, once again. It shouldn’t have been possible – Garm’s Fang was too huge and too heavy – but Damien brought the sword swinging around in the opposite direction. He was just that strong.
And I wasn’t fast enough to dodge this time.
I cried out as Garm’s Fang bit into my belly. I staggered away, inspecting my wound through the slash in my shirt. I hissed as I felt the trickle of blood rolling down to my navel. Just a scratch, thankfully. No disembowelment. At least not yet.
“Point Damien,” Jackie called. “That’s two, one. Another point and the Blood of Garm wins.”
You should’ve heard the pack howling. They could probably hear us another town over.
Again, this could have been a good thing. Damien was bristling with power now, his head swimming in overconfidence, lifted even higher by the voices of his adoring pack. But we did only have one point left until I fucked this all up. My eyes fell on Asher’s face, then on Gil’s. Asher gave me a tight, encouraging smile. Gil looked like he was about ready to tear my throat out himself.
But I was more concerned with wanting to punch the smile right off of Damien’s face.
“You feeling all right there, little buddy?” He planted the tip of Garm’s Fang into the ground, placing both hands on its pommel, like he was taking a tiny breather. “Doesn’t look too bad from here.”
“I’m fine,” I said, frowning. “Let’s fucking do this.”
What the fuck did he care? I mean, clearly, he was being sarcastic, too, but – wait. Why was I feeling so woozy all of a sudden? My lashes fluttered as I struggled to focus on Damien, on the sword in his hands and the glimmers of pale green light weaving across the blade.
Necromantic energy. The world was fuzzy at the edges, like I’d just downed a couple of flutes of champagne and forgotten about it, or like I’d just sucked a pint of blood out of a stoner.
“No fair,” I murmured. “This is – no fair, you’re cheating.”
Damien laughed, his wolves echoing his mirth, like a pack of human hyenas. “I’ve got my magic sword, you’ve got yours.”
“Get – get fucked,” I said. I was getting sleepy, Garm’s Fang draining my life force with its awful enchantments. Worse, I was running out of clever things to say.
But you know what? Damien was right. He had his magic sword. I had mine. I looked down at the katana. God, was I going to hate myself in the morning. I lifted the blade up to my arm.
Damien stammered. “What – what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”